One Drink Past Tipsy
by Chirugal
Summary: Another birthday dinner’s over and done with, and as with every year, Abby and Gibbs wind up in his basement with sandpaper and hard liquor. Gibbs/Abby fluff, one-shot, complete.


**Title**: One Drink Past Tipsy  
**Rating**: K+  
**Spoilers**: Up to season five's _Ex-File_.  
**Summary**: Why do relationships never work?

**Author's Note**: Yet another one-shot I shouldn't be writing because I have way too many WIPs on the go as it is. Think I'm going to update my Zabby fic next, though. Or finish Revenge or Cornered. If you have a preference, let me know… :)

* * *

Another birthday dinner's over and done with, and as with every year, Abby and Gibbs wind up in his basement with sandpaper and hard liquor. They've only been down there a few minutes when his mind returns to a case they worked recently. "So you actually dated that guy we hauled in the other day?"

Abby rolls her eyes at his mild incredulity. "You don't get to criticise my dating choices, Mr. Three Divorces!"

"My dates don't end up in the interrogation room."

She almost chokes on a mouthful of bourbon. "Your third _wife_ was in our interrogation room! And Director Shepard. Oh, and that blonde chick you took home with you who turned out to be a murderess… and the redhead Kate told me about who hacked up that guy…"

Maybe he should have thought his argument through before opening his mouth. "Touché. You dated the stalker, though."

She winces at the memory of Mikel Mawher, then shakes her head. "And you dated Lieutenant Colonel Serious Commitment… though she did have a thing for Ziva."

"What?" It's not often Abby can tell him something about someone that he's not already noticed.

"Caught her checking her out when she thought no one was looking," she says smugly.

"Hmm." He takes the bottle from her and drinks from it, then hands it back as he picks up the sandpaper. A couple of minutes pass before he has to ask. "Does Ziva know?"

With a suggestive grin, Abby asks, "Does Ziva know you wanna have a threesome with her and Colonel Mann?"

Trust her. "_Abby_…"

"I swear, men _always_ go to the threesome place when they hear about bisexual women…" She shakes her head, and her pigtails swing distractingly.

"I was actually thinking about them as a couple," he informs her. "As in, duo. As in, twosome."

She examines his face for a second, and comes to the conclusion that he really means it. "Oh, Gibbs… you really need to relax rule twelve a little."

That's a completely different issue. "I don't wanna date Ziva."

She snorts. "Yeah, maybe not _date…"_

He shoots her a warning stare, then turns his attention to the boat, concentrating on the wood beneath his fingertips. Rule twelve with Ziva has never been an issue. "Why are you so concerned about rule twelve, anyway? Not like you ever followed it."

Abby leans against the boat next to the spot he's sanding, frowning. "What does _that_ mean? I was dating McGee before you hired him."

"And I didn't hire him for your convenience, Abbs."

"Oh, believe me, I know…" Abby mutters, half to herself. He finds himself wondering exactly what went wrong between she and McGee, but he's not the type to ask.

Another sip from the bottle, and she asks, "Why do relationships never work, Gibbs?"

He almost laughs. "You're asking me?"

"You've been in enough of them to have a theory, right?"

It's a difficult question with an easy answer. In his case, anyway. "Cause people do one of two things – they screw up, or they make it impossible for the other person not to screw up."

Abby takes a second to process the statement, nodding slowly. "Or… they avoid screwing up in the first place."

"That what you do?" He watches her run a finger over the silken wood he's already smoothed down while he takes another swallow of bourbon. Her attention is overly-focused; she doesn't glance up to meet his eyes. Her words were close to her heart, and he already knows the answer to the question he's just asked.

She shrugs. "The people I fall for… I mean, full-on, no-holds-barred, swept out to sea kinda love… They're tempestuous, they're driven, and they're unattainable. And as long as I keep quiet, they're too caught up with their own lives to notice the way I feel about them."

After a brief pause, she sighs and steps away from the boat, a little unsteady but not quite drunk. "So I stick to what they're comfortable with. But hey, I'm a great _friend_…"

As she walks past him, she reaches out for the bourbon he's holding. He tightens his grip on the bottle at the same time she does, and she jerks to a halt, scowling up into his face with an anger that's misplaced.

Gibbs can be pretty clueless around women sometimes, but anyone could read the situation right now. His feelings for Abby are carefully contained, parts of them sealed tightly in a box labelled 'do not touch'. He packed them away into his mind's attic soon after he met her, knowing that she would never be his.

Seems he was wrong about that.

Abby tries to yank the bottle from his grasp, but he's stronger. "You're cutting me off? I'm not even one drink past tipsy!"

"Tell me who you're mad at, and I'll let go."

"I'm mad at you!" Her tone insinuates that it should be obvious.

"Why?"

Abby rolls her eyes. "Because it's my birthday, and you're denying me my God-given right to drink myself into oblivion if I want to?"

He releases the bottle, knowing she doesn't really want it anyway. She marches over to the stool in the corner and takes a defiant sip, and he stifles the urge to smile. "_Now_ why are you mad?"

"Guess," she challenges, seeming confident that he won't be able to.

The decision snaps into place in his mind, and he turns from her to examine a joint in the woodwork of the boat while he deals with the revelation. "Cause I haven't given you your birthday present yet."

She pauses for a second, reflecting. "Wasn't what I was thinking of, since it's not even my birthday for an hour."

"You want it?" He fixes her with an intense look, the one she never knows how to interpret.

Cocking her head to one side, she asks, "Is this a trick question?" His response is a one-shouldered shrug, and she sighs. "If you have it to hand, sure…"

Gibbs hasn't felt anticipation this strong in years, and she catches on to it easily, although she doesn't know why. As he crosses to where she's sitting, she rises from the stool, taking a small step to the side as if she thinks he needs access to the drawer at her back. He moves with her, intruding upon her personal space unapologetically, and counters her searching, puzzled gaze with a slight smile.

He waits for the moment that the idea dawns on her that he might be about to do exactly what he plans to do, and when he sees her begin to draw a breath to speak, he kisses her.

Her indrawn breath is sharp and light; her eyes widen, blink, and then close as she meets his questioning lips with a kiss that's eager and joyous and just plain _Abby._ She practically throws herself into his arms, and he steadies her instinctively, used to her overly enthusiastic embraces by now.

"You've been holding out on me," she accuses breathlessly.

Gibbs shrugs. "All you had to do was ask."

"You'd have thrown rule twelve at me!"

"Then you wouldn't have been asking the right question," he tells her, unable to resist tracing her spider-web tattoo with a finger. He's wanted to do it for so long, but it's not something a friend would lie awake some nights thinking about.

"Questions…" she murmurs, shivering a little at his touch. "How about 'can we go upstairs?' Is that a good question to ask?"

"Could be…" He takes a step back, his hands gripping her waist, and she follows with an intrigued smile as they slowly traverse the basement floor.

When they reach the stairs, she asks, "Can I stay the night?"

Pausing only to give her a swift kiss, he begins to ascend the steps. "Told you before that you can stay here whenever you like."

At the top of the stairs, she's the one to kiss him. "Can I sleep in your room?"

"Guest room's a mess, so I don't see why not," he says, amused.

Through the kitchen, out into the hall, and Abby speaks her next question in a near-whisper. "In your bed?"

He answers in a near-growl. "I think there's enough room for two."

Getting to the bedroom, up another set of stairs, proves a little more complicated. Keeping his sense of balance is complicated with Abby clinging to him, nuzzling his neck, but he's motivated enough to meet the challenge.

It's not until they reach the doorway to his bedroom that she speaks again. "Do we have to sleep right away?"

He meets her teasing grin with a ravenous kiss, pulling her into the room and kicking the door shut behind them. It's quite some time before they even get under the covers.


End file.
